


As Advertised on TV

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bad Sex, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Good Omens Kink Meme, Loss of Virginity, Other, Painful Sex, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-11-03 21:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: Everything that Crowley knew about sex, he learned from watching movies. As fun as movies are, they don't provide a comprehensive sex education. Needless to say, he has some misconceptions in regards to the act.





	As Advertised on TV

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the original prompt: "ou know how, at least in book verse, things work the way Crowley expects them to work, his stereo system, his gas tank, whatever?
> 
> So if Crowley hasn't used his body for sex before, and if human beings in 2019 can make it to adulthood completely unaware that vaginal penetration doesn't (always) involve tearing and pain and bleeding, how would Crowley possibly know that?
> 
> I'm not looking for something soft and sweet where he and Aziraphale figure out a workaround for vaginal sex or Crowley gets a decent human sexual education and learns that vaginal sex can be completely pain-free. What I'm looking for his Crowley popping his cherry, over and over, every single time, and never once thinking about not letting Aziraphale fuck him.
> 
> Blood, pain, crying, that's all good. I don't want this to be a masochism thing, either; Crowley grins and bears it for Aziraphale's sake, maybe even hides from him just how much it hurts, because that's what you do for love, right?"

Everything that Crowley knew about sex, he learned from watching movies.

Frankly, most beings of ethereal and occult origins considered genitals to be one of the worst ideas God ever came up with. They were ridiculous. They were inconvenient, far too delicate, and often leaking. Crowley rarely made the Effort except when it was required for one reason or another (that time he posed as a model for Titian circa 1520 and forgot which set you were supposed to pair with breasts stuck out in his mind).

But now he had Aziraphale and Aziraphale was saying things like “our side” and Crowley really, really wanted to try it.

The things Crowley has learned are as follows:

1\. Condoms are not required if the two participants love each other very much.

2\. When one partner orgasms, the other will too at the exact same time.

3\. Lube is not required when penetrating the vagina.

4\. The first time always hurts.

Crowley felt partially responsible for that last one. To the woman He said: “I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; In pain you shall bring forth children; Your desire shall be for your husband, And he shall rule over you.” Since he was the one to offer Eve the apple, Crowley figured he should Effort up the vulva. Maybe later, after they got the hang of sex, they could try something different, but right now Crowley thought anal too complicated (there was supposed to be lube and fingers, whereas his research into vaginal sex stated that one only needed to stick it in for the sex to occur) and he was having difficulty finding decent films (with enough action and explosions to keep his interest) that involved two vulvas. For all that human men liked to go on about lesbians, the actual sex acts between such couples appeared to be rather taboo.

And everything else doesn’t count. Oral sex, handjobs, and dry humping all fell somewhat short of “sex” according to the technical virgins and the half-virgins of the world. And Crowley wanted Real Sex with Aziraphale. What was the point if it wasn’t Real Sex?

All of this led to where he was now: on his back on Aziraphale’s bed, his legs around his waist, face buried into his shoulder, and trying not to scream.

It hurt. He knew it would hurt. Every movie and TV show he had watched told him it would hurt. But he hadn’t thought it would hurt quite this much.

Aziraphale’s hips stuttered and he stopped half-way in. Crowley was torn between wanting him to pull out and to just get it over and shove it all the way in. “Is this right?” He asked. “I feel like we’re doing something wrong. What about foreplay? I’ve heard you’re supposed to do that.”

Crowley had heard that too, but whenever the women on TV talked about it, it was always said in this half-fond exasperated sigh, “My boyfriend only spends two minutes on foreplay.” He wasn’t sure exactly what foreplay was (he assumed it was kissing) but it didn’t seem to be an actual requirement. Besides, he and Aziraphale had kissed before proceeding to the next step so that should count.

“It’sss fine, jussst get on with it,” Crowley hissed through clenched teeth.

Aziraphale had less knowledge than Crowley in these matters. Crowley was the demon, the tempter who spread Lust and Discord in his wake, and everything Aziraphale knew about these matters came from one rather sordid entitled Fanny Hill, or Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure by John Cleland, published in 1748 (Crowley actually had a hand in its creation when he dared the author to write a pornographic novel that contained no proper words for the genitals, which resulted in some pretty strange euphemisms such as “the nethermouth” and “red-topped truncheon.”) So, he trusted Crowley and pushed in.

He felt liquid, hot and gushing, running down the insides of his thighs and thought for one happy moment that Aziraphale was done. But, no, he was still very much hard and moving.

Aziraphale’s hips stuttered. He was slowing down. “I don’t think--”

Crowley planted kisses along the edge of his mouth, swallowing the words before they could escape. He forced himself to move, to push himself back down on his cock despite the pain screaming for him to stop. Aziraphale pulled himself up and looked down at him with a strange, serious expression that Crowley didn’t understand, but he was moving again and picking up the pace. Crowley closed his eyes to block out that stare. There were lips against his ear and he heard Aziraphale say, “Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death.”

Crowley didn’t know where the quote was from. It sounded like the Bible. He made a note to one day actually read the thing.

It only took about twenty-eight seconds for Aziraphale to come. The moment he pulled out, Crowley stopped making the Effort and the torn, deep bruised feeling vanished. He wasn’t sure what to do next. At this point in the movie there’d be a Smash-Cut and the two actors would be asleep in bed, the blankets artfully positioned to hide their bits. Crowley didn’t think he could miracle a Smash-Cut, but he could miracle the mess away before Aziraphale saw the blood. He wondered how the humans did it. Surely, they didn’t sleep in the filth? Did they immediately jump up and start a load of laundry? That wasn’t very romantic.

There wasn’t much romanticism going on right now either. They sat against the headboard, neither one really knowing what to say. “Well, that was nice,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley wanted to go to sleep. Aziraphale didn’t sleep. The bed seemed lonely without him. Aziraphale seemed to recognize his dilemma because he said, “Why don’t you rest? I’ve heard that’s what usually happens after this sort of thing. I’ll be here.”

Smash-Cut: Crowley's head is on the pillow, one of Aziraphale’s hands tangled in his hair, the other holding a book. As his eyes drifted closed, he wondered vaguely if this would happen every time he Effort’d a vulva. Brand new Effort, brand new hymen.

Fade to Black


End file.
